AUTHOR'S NOTE: "A Fantasy of Susan" is the first in a trilogy of stories as related to me by my wife Marie. Be on the lookout for the 2nd installment "Erica's Real Bridal Shower", coming soon. WARNING: If you are offended by group sex, lesbianism, marital infidelity, or incest then this series is not for you.
The moist paradise created by Anya's suckling of my ear had me growing increasingly wet in other places as well. Judging by the warmth of her crotch on my legs and the stiffness of her nipples through the sheet between us, I could only guess she was equally as turned on.
My hands slid up and down her arms, often slipping to touch her sides and then getting lost in the tangle of her hair. My only "words" were a series of moans and my eyes fluttered in my head in a seizure of sexual delight.
"I'm not a lesbian." I weakly protested, my words seeming faint and hoarse.
"Neither am I." she whispered, her lips grazing the flesh of my ears with each move. "I'm just a woman helping her sister relax."
As she emphasized the word "woman" she ran her hand over my breast, rolling the nipple against the smooth flesh of her palm. It was then that I became aware that the sheet had fallen away and we were touching flesh to flesh. Something inside me no longer cared and I closed my eyes tightly, trying to find some anchor in this heavenly storm.
"I know you miss Craig." She cooed. "But I'm here to help you."
With that she kissed me, gently at first then harder, her hunger slowly rising to the surface.
My eyes opened and I looked at her. Her features seem to fade in and out. Her blonde hair seemed to darken little by little until it was the shade of burnt auburn and her deep blue eyes became pearls of blackest night. In an instant I realized what was happening. It was Susan, my own sister, I was seeing. It had been Susan all along. That moment in the shower when my hand made contact with my breast, it was my sister's hand. That tongue I had pictured between my legs as I rode my own hand into orgasm was Susan's, not Craig's. The gentle, soft breast I had leaned against in despair on the bathroom floor.
I guess I had associated 18 year old Susan with Anya since the first day we had met. There were the long muscular legs and the perky delectable tits. The long flowing hair, the well-defined mouth and facial feature, even the wicked though seemingly innocent smile.
Anya's tongue was snaking between my lips and I opened them to allow her access. Our tongues danced around each other as our hands traced lines along one another's bodies.
"Tell me what you want." She begged.
"Susan...Anya..." And then I kissed her. Kissed her in a way I had only ever kissed a few boys in my life. I was giving my body and soul to her and I wanted it as badly she did.
My hand slid up beneath her shirt until it was filled with her athletic but creamy breast. I cupped it again and again, molding it with my hand, making it mine. The results were instantaneous as her skin warmed over a pale shade of pink and her nipple grew long between my thumb and forefinger. Anya moaned into my mouth, her body now rolling against mine in a damp and sweaty ballet. Effortlessly I lifted the shirt over her head, aching for a moment at the loss of our kiss.
When she leaned back down I took one of her breasts into my mouth, suckling like a starving baby. Anya purred her consent and her claws dug into my hair, holding me to her as her crotch pounded mercilessly against my bare but soaking pubic mound.
Her body was the world to me as I lay there, eyes closed, experiencing every sensation through my mouth, my hands and my sex-starved cunt. To me she was Susan, the wanton and wild young woman I had fantasized about for years and been jealous of my whole life and now she was mine.
My tongue ravaged the entire surface of her juicy tit, trying desperately to pull her love juices right through the skin. Time and again I circled around, moving ever closer to the wonderfully sensitive center which I would then take and suck deeply into my mouth before raking it against the roof and then releasing it again. If Anya felt any pain she never let on, her only reflex a desperate, hissing "Yessss!" and the movement of her rabid hands over my own ample and heaving tits.
My hands moved down her incredibly slim waist until I was touching her legs. Outside and in, lingering on her sweat-dampened thighs, I searched her entire body for as far as I could reach. My fingertips seemed to move as if with a mind of their own to the edge of her shorts, upward, ever upward. I was surprised to realize she had no panties on as my hand moved to grab the cheek of her ass.